


Rainy days weren’t made for doctors

by choppedmint (forevermint)



Series: The Road Not Taken [17]
Category: The Morganville Vampires - Rachel Caine
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Historical References, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-02
Updated: 2019-12-02
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:02:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21642634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/forevermint/pseuds/choppedmint
Summary: ORIGIN "Whimsical: Rainy days weren’t made for doctors": I think this was one of the prompts that just came to me on the spot. I just practically keysmashed ideas at the end of whimsical and ran with it. This was the first one out of Arthur's stories that I started writing, just after I'd 'killed' him off in the Paradox House. As my friend Dia put it, I was taking advantage of the feelings. But anyway, I wanted to do a bit of a story of Arthur's daily life - away from Myrnin and his all-important shop for most of it - so I decided to have him out in the rain. Since I RP MV in several RPs I was trying to figure out a way to make it interesting for all of them and not just the Paradox House. The idea to bring in Margolatta was just something that worked, and on top of that if I make an OC I'm not just going to leave them on the wayside.
Relationships: Myrnin (Morganville Vampires)/Arthur Dee
Series: The Road Not Taken [17]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1558276
Kudos: 1





	Rainy days weren’t made for doctors

“I’m going out!” Arthur shouted over his shoulder, deeper into the shop. It was slightly doubtful if Myrnin was awake to hear him, but he figured it was better to be considerate. The other man had stayed up late, reading something or other that Arthur hadn’t been able to puzzle out when he’d leaned over his shoulder. This had meant that he was now sleeping it off in the back room.

Myrnin, however, did seem to hear and he pushed open the door behind Arthur, which creaked. His hair was mussed, which at least hinted that he had been asleep. “Where were you going?” he questioned, eyes suddenly flashing in wild, hungry curiosity. Arthur, used to that look, responded with a bit of disappointment. “Just the shop about seven blocks away. You know the one?”  
The response was a comically quizzical look, but Myrnin finally nodded. “Doesn’t it sell food though?”

Arthur leaned against the door frame, crossing his arms. “That was sort of the point. Nothing left in the shop.”

“Oh,” said Myrnin, as if he’d only just _now_ thought up this sort of thing. He suddenly looked very disinterested. “Isn’t it raining?”

There was a tap of rain against the road outside and a loud roar against the roof. Arthur looked up, almost having forgotten about it. It had been raining all yesterday and today. He’d tuned out the sound.

“Guess I’ll have to make it quick,” he admitted, reaching back and pulling up the hood of his cloak. The sleeves slipped down over his hand in the process, but that too was usual. “Still have to eat, Myrnin.”

He turned, hand on the door handle. He could hear Myrnin huffing from behind him, but at least he didn’t protest. Arthur pushed the door open and then started to pick up the pace as soon as he left the house-shop. His feet slapped against wet cobblestones and he did his best to dodge around the dirtier patches of street. This wasn’t something he was always successful with. 

The shop at the end of the seven blocks might have been bettered termed a dump. And though Myrnin cared very little for shopping for food, he had to agree when he’d come here was only a slightly better option than fishing in London’s excuse of a river. But it was what was open at this time, so Arthur braved the smell and the glowers of those around him (why everyone seemed to glare at him only at this one shop he didn’t know. They treated him perfectly fine at all the others). 

The trip back was what caught him. 

This was why he didn’t like traveling in the rain. It was much easier to run into people, despite the fact that there was a fewer amount who wanted to be out at this time. But as it was, he didn’t see the woman. Arthur didn’t hear her steps or anything of the kind as she rounded a corner, knocking their shoulders together and causing Arthur to skid on the cobblestones. His feet skidded out from under him. He yelped, hands flailing and dropping what he’d been caring in an attempt to catch himself.

The woman’s arms caught him around the chest, far stronger then he’d expected. The other hand grabbed at his bundle, catching it before it hit the road and the mud. Arthur was impressed, truly, with the speed.

Then he buckled a bit further against her arm, realizing she’d knocked the wind out of him in her haste and he was left gasping for air. The woman was not so patient or improper to drop him, but she did shift positions, so she was merely propping him up by his shoulder. 

He caught his breath after another second, able to take a step back. He vaguely noticed her arm had been a bit cold. Not wet so much as not properly adjusting to the temperature. But that didn’t seem right.

“Very sorry,” he started to apologies. But the woman shook her head and handed him what he had dropped. Her accent was thick and as unplaceable as Myrnin’s when she answered, “There is no problem.”

Arthur took the small package, grateful that it was just a little wet and not completely drenched. “Thanks,” he said.  
“Do not mention it,” said the woman, about to turn away and continue her progress.

But as Arthur had said, it was hard to see people in the rain. Myrnin turned up unusually fast, appearing in the woman’s path.  
The woman took a step backwards, eyebrows raising. “Excuse me?” she asked. 

Myrnin leaned forward, seeming to sniff the air. “Very nice, Arthur,” he said approvingly. “That doesn’t smell completely horrible. Perhaps you could excuse my friend.”

“Friend?” Arthur questioned, unsure if Myrnin was referring to him or the woman.

Apparently, the woman didn’t seem to know either. Her face wrinkled rather unflattering in distaste at Myrnin’s familiarity.  
“This is Margolatta,” Myrnin explained. “She was just passing through, I believe?” He seemed unusually chipper. His eyes, however, weren’t the usual manic wild. They were total steel, from the color to the look. His hair was a wet rag on his head, no longer looking like he’d slept in it and just like he always looked. Ever so slightly insane. But while Arthur knew well enough how crazy he could act at times this was not one of those times.

“I’m _sorry_?” questioned Margolatta, sounding affronted. 

“No,” countered Myrnin. “I rather think you aren’t.”

Arthur, taking the hint, turned the corner again, walking away from them. The bundle was still pressed to his chest, but he walked more slowly then he might have any other time.

Myrnin, probably underestimating Arthur’s continued proximity, hissed, “Don’t mess with me. This is my town. I do not care for Amelie’s requests or your interest.”

Margolatta had probably leaned in or lowered her voice, because Arthur only caught the first part, “What a wonderful little pet you have these days. How long before he dies of old age? Amelie requests – “

And then Arthur was too far away to even hear Myrnin’s retort, though he thought he might have heard a growl. The exchange was strange, but he didn’t think much more of it. Myrnin himself was strange and there had been strange company before. It was something that enchanted Arthur. A puzzle he hadn’t worked out. 

He opened the shop again, surprised that Myrnin followed only a minute after him. “What was that about?” Arthur was quick to ask.

“Hum?” asked Myrnin absently. “Oh … Friend of the family. Wanted to tell me something about another friend of the family. Wanted to know if I wanted to visit. Politely turned her down.”

It hadn’t sounded polite. “Are you sure you don’t want to go?” asked Arthur, but it was a trick question.

Myrnin just grinned. Then he slowly shook his head. “No. No, I don’t think it wise. There’s a tendency for this friend to suck the life out of the place. I can’t say I’m inclined to check up just yet.”

And he left it at that, shaking out his hair like a dog that had just exited from the rain and he left small puddles along the floor (and then preceded to almost trip in them). Spitting curses in a language that Arthur wasn’t familiar with and looking like that same wounded dog, he slunk back into the back without another word from Arthur.

**Author's Note:**

> ORIGIN "Whimsical: Rainy days weren’t made for doctors": I think this was one of the prompts that just came to me on the spot. I just practically keysmashed ideas at the end of whimsical and ran with it. This was the first one out of Arthur's stories that I started writing, just after I'd 'killed' him off in the Paradox House. As my friend Dia put it, I was taking advantage of the feelings. But anyway, I wanted to do a bit of a story of Arthur's daily life - away from Myrnin and his all-important shop for most of it - so I decided to have him out in the rain. Since I RP MV in several RPs I was trying to figure out a way to make it interesting for all of them and not just the Paradox House. The idea to bring in Margolatta was just something that worked, and on top of that if I make an OC I'm not just going to leave them on the wayside.


End file.
